_Long._ Villain! you may find your transports premature; perchance he has dismounted to seek on foot some shelter from the increasing fury of the storm; but 'tis impossible he should escape; one only path conducts to the chateau. Quick! bestow yourselves on either side, and your victim's fate is certain. I must return to avoid suspicion. _Bert._ (_catching his arm._) Yet, my lord, once more reflect. _Long._ (_throwing him off._) Recollect your oath. _Bert._ (_desperately._) Yes, yes, it must be written on my memory in characters of blood. [_Exeunt separately._ SCENE IV.--_Another part of the forest more entangled and intricate, the tempest becomes violent, and the stage appears alternately illumined by the lightning, and enveloped in utter darkness. Florian is seen advancing cautiously through the thickets from a distance._ _Flor._ A plague upon all dark nights, foul ways, and runaway horses! a mettlesome madcap, to start at the lightning and plunge with me head over heels in the brushwood; in scrambling out of that thicket, I certainly turned wrong, and have missed my road--how to regain it? 'sdeath! I could as soon compose an almanac as and a clue to this puzzle. Well, I was found in a wood when a baby, and have just lived to years of discretion to be lost in a wood again! Fortune! Fortune! thou spiteful gipsy! was this an honest trick to pass upon a faithful servant, who has worn thy livery from his cradle, and taken off thy hands a thousand knocks and buffetings without a murmur? Just at this moment too, when hope and fancy were dancing merrily, and had made the prettiest ball-room of my heart--just too when the image of my Geraldine-- (_rain, storm increases_) but a truce with meditation, this pelting shower rather advises action-- (_turns to an opening_) --No; that can't be the path; which ever way I turn I may only get farther entangled; then there are pit-falls, wolves, bears--yes! I've the prospect of a delectable night before me; what if I exercise my lungs and call for help? oh! there's scarcely a chance of being heard; well, 'tis my forlorn hope and shall e'en have a trial. Holloa! Holloa! Holloa! [_a whistle answers from the right_] Huzza! somebody whistles from the right! kind lady Fortune! never will I call thee names again. [_another whistle from the opposite side._] Ha! answered from the left too! --Lucky fellow!--where are you my dear boys--where are you? _Florian_ runs toward the right--a very vivid flash of lightning at that instant gleams upon the path before him, and displays the figure of a masqued bravo, _Sanguine_, with an unsheathed poniard advancing between the trees, _Florian_ recoils. _Flor._ Ha! a man armed and masqued!--perhaps some ruffian!--'sdeath! I am defenceless, my pistols were left in the saddle! _Sanguine._ (_advancing_) Who called? _Flor._ If I return no answer in the darkness I may retreat unseen. [He creeps silently to the left as the bravo advances.